


Larva

by Silvarbelle



Series: Metamorphosis [1]
Category: Xiaolin Showdown
Genre: Feels Like Coming Home, Gen, it's been a hot fucking minute since i've written in this fandom, lets see if i still got it, pretty sure i got something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24634132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvarbelle/pseuds/Silvarbelle
Summary: Chase Young has decided it is time for Jack Spicer to grow the fuck up.
Relationships: none yet
Series: Metamorphosis [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781095
Comments: 28
Kudos: 63





	Larva

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Xiaolin Showdown is not mine. It is the property of its creator, Christy Hui, and attendant television networks. I am making no money off of this fanfiction.

When Chase Young came to pay Jack Spicer an actual visit, the teenaged boy could hardly believe it was happening.

He hardly breathed as he stared at the Heylin lord; his entire body in an agony of desire and hope and resentment. The unfairly gorgeous man stood in the dim lighting of Jack’s lab in the basement of his home. Chase was entirely too beautiful; ethereal, elegant – cloaked in an aura of danger and evil that excited and terrified Jack all at once.

The evil man looked at Jack with those cold, gold, wicked eyes of his; watched the youth as Jack babbled at him until he finally stammered to a halt. Only then did Chase approach him. 

He prowled closer and Jack shrank back against his work table, his heart hammering so hard he went lightheaded. He bent backwards over the table, staring up at the dark and dangerous man, and wondered if all his dreams were about to come true – or his _nightmares_.

Chase observed him for long, silent moments. When that cold, gold gaze slid so blatantly over his body, Jack gasped and went tense, his nerves electrified with anticipation.

“ _No_ , Jack,” Chase murmured. The rush of _joy_ Jack felt at just hearing the evil man’s voice say his name was hot; painfully intense. “No – I do not touch _children_ the way you want me to touch you.”

Such furious, embarrassed offense… oh, he _burned_ with hideous, humiliated resentment.

“I’m _fourteen!_ ”

“And still so _childish_.”

Jack opened his mouth to shout more – only to go still and silent when Chase suddenly cupped one of his rounded cheeks in a hand.

They stood, staring at each other in silence, and Chase’s thumb smoothed over and over Jack’s cheek in soft, sweet rhythm.

“You want so much from me,” the older man said quietly. “You want from me things that I _cannot_ give even if I wanted to.”

Jack made a high-pitched, questioning noise.

Chase sighed; smoothed his thumb over to rest on his lips.

Jack, so high-strung on anxiety and lust, nearly passed out just from that simple touch.

“I cannot give much – but I can give you _something_ ,” Chase said, and released the teenager to step back from him. “I am here to offer you a deal, Spicer – and it is one I have _never_ offered another. This will be the only time I offer it, so I ask that you use that brilliant brain of yours to consider the offer carefully.”

Wild delight rushed through Jack. “You… you think I’m _brilliant?!_ ”

Chase cut him a cold glare – but then, sighed again and nodded.

“I do,” he agreed. “A mind like yours… you could not possibly _create_ so much as you do if you were anything less than brilliant.”

He waved a hand to encompass Jack’s tools, robots, and white board where the teenaged genius scribbled equations and schematics.

Jack was incandescent with joy – only for Chase to snuff that joy moments later.

“And you’re going to _destroy_ that brilliance if you keep on like this!”

The furious, offended hiss of his voice startled Jack badly.

“What… what do you mean?” he asked, standing upright; nervous.

Chase locked gazes with him and Jack felt like he’d taken a punch to the brain.

“You _do not_ belong in this conflict – and _you know it_.”

*~*~*

Chase Young was a patient and observant man.

He knew to pay attention to portents and omens; to signs both subtle and not. Those signs had appeared and made him think of Jack Spicer. It had been many months since he’d last seen the albino youth or even heard from the boy. That was fine with him for the most part, as Jack was the most annoying, disgusting wretch he knew; so weak and infantile as to be offensive in his existence when he had the potential to be so much more!

And yet, the signs indicated that something was amiss about the mortal teenager – so Chase focused his thoughts on Jack Spicer. He cast divination spells centered on the boy and discovered that the world was on the cusp of losing a true powerhouse. 

Chase realized he had to _do_ something and considered his options for a long while before finally making a decision.

He went to Jack’s ridiculous little lab in the boy’s home. Within a few short minutes, Spicer was bent backwards over a table strewn with mechanical parts and tools – cringing away from him even as the boy’s wicked little heart yearned for him. He looked Spicer’s gangly, pubescent body over and heard the teenager gasp; saw his little nipples go tight and hard beneath his garish shirt; smelled the mortal youth’s innocent lust. 

Chase knew he could take Spicer then and there and he’d welcome Chase with clumsy, greedy eagerness. He could take Spicer and take him _away_ – and utterly _ruin_ the boy.

If he took Spicer, the albino youth would never be anything but Chase Young’s puppet, moving to his whims; all of Jack Spicer’s fire and passion and innovation snuffed out of him.

And so, Chase made his statement and watched Spicer closely for reaction. He didn’t have long to wait.

Outrage expressed itself all over that homely white face. “Hey! I—“

“ _Jack_.”

Saying his name had the boy suddenly silent and wary.

Sighing, Chase asked, “Are your parents home?”

That innocent lust returned, expressing itself so ignorant and raw on Spicer’s face. He sincerely doubted Jack would know what to do with him if he got the Heylin man in his bed.

“Nope!” Spicer declared. “Nuh-uh. Not at all. They’re off in America, currently.”

“Are there security devices that would show my presence?”

Spicer scrambled over to his computer. A few swift keystrokes and Spicer turned to him with a feral grin.

“Not anymore!” he bragged. “Set ‘em on a loop! We’ll be ‘off-screen’ for _hours_.”

“I won’t need more than thirty minutes with you. Take me upstairs, Spicer.”

The boy frowned, and then turned towards the stairs, muttering, “Considering what we’re gonna do, you could at least call me ‘Jack’.”

When they made it up to the ground level of the large mansion, Chase said, “Offer me refreshment, Spicer.”

Jack turned toward him, startled. “Say _what?_ ”

“I am a _guest_ in your _home_. I am here to _talk_ with you. Offer me a _drink_.”

Spicer blinked at him; tilted his head and squinted. Then, shoulders slumping and head bowing, he whispered, “You really _aren’t_ going to…”

“I told you, Spicer: I don’t touch _children_ that way.” He fixed the boy with a dark stare. “I am treating you with dignity and patience – which is _fast diminishing_.”

Jack flinched and tucked his left arm close to his body, gripping it with his right hand. Chase knew why. He’d badly sprained that arm in annoyance with Spicer the last time they’d seen each other.

With a nod and a sigh, Spicer took him to a room with a heavy masculine influence. Turning on a green-shaded lamp, the teenager then went to a nearby liquor cabinet and easily jimmied it open with a set of lock picks he pulled from a pocket. He poured fine scotch into a short, cut crystal tumbler and took it to Chase, who’d seated himself in a wingback chair upholstered in rich leather.

“Not pouring one for yourself?” the Heylin lord challenged, accepting the glass.

Jack wrinkled his nose and went to close the cabinet.

“Can’t stand the stuff,” he admitted. “Tried it when I was eleven; was pretty sure I had to pull my lungs out of my forehead after one sip. Never again.”

“For the best,” Chase said, watching as Spicer flopped into another wingback chair with a boneless lack of grace. “Minors shouldn’t have this or anything like it.”

“Says the guy frozen at _sixteen?_ ”

“Nineteen, actually – give or take fifteen-hundred years.”

Spicer gaped at him; astonished to have been given an easy, casual answer about Chase’s personal information. Then, when the pithy joke caught up with him, he began sputtering and snorting inelegant laughter.

Chase sighed and took a sip of his drink. He nodded approvingly.

“This is a _fine_ scotch,” he declared. “One of the best I’ve ever tasted.”

“Glenfiddich 1937 Rare Collection,” Jack drawled, propping a round cheek on a fist. “There’s also Glen Ord, in there; Glenmorangie, Glencadam, Glendronach, Glengoyne… Dad’s got more glens than a map of Scotland.”

Chase made an amused sound and crossed one leg over the other at the knees.

“Enough about alcohol,” he asserted. “Let us discuss _you_ , Jack Spicer.”

The teen sat up straighter with a wince. “Sounds ominous.”

“It does – if you make the _wrong_ choice.”

Jack fidgeted; picked at the threadbare knee of his black jeans with a dirty fingernail. “You said you have an offer for me.”

“Mmmm… yes. I want you to drop out.”

Red eyes glared at Chase. The accompanying expression was petulant and pouty.

“You are _not_ suited to this conflict,” Chase said, his voice grim; soft. “You do not have the martial training or elemental abilities of most of us.”

“Yeah – but I _could!_ ” Spicer argued. “I could get the _training_ , at least! _You_ could train me!”

“To successfully learn martial arts, you must be willing to endure countless hours – for _years_ – of physical suffering,” Chase countered. “And if you think that I would cut you any slack, you are out of your _mind_.”

“But—!”

“ _Think_ about it, Jack. Do you really want _me_ to be the one to strike bruises into you; to break your bones and make you cry?”

Spicer’s hand went again to his arm and he bit his lip, uncertain.

“Right,” Chase murmured. “You didn’t enjoy it at all.”

“ _You_ did,” came the sulky accusation.

He gave the boy a wicked grin. “ _Of course_ I did, Spicer. I _am_ evil – and _you_ are an annoying nuisance. I am not known for _tolerating_ nuisances.”

Jack gave an outraged huff and flounced out of his chair.

“I don’t have to take this!” he shouted, storming towards the door. “I’m not—!”

“ ** _Sit. Down._** ”

The words came out in a horrible, demonic voice. When Jack turned to look at Chase, he saw scales beginning to ripple up the man’s cheeks. His hair had gone spikier; more leather than silk. That cold, gold gaze was locked on his with near-feral anger.

Gulping against his terror, Jack scurried back to the chair and curled up. He crossed his arms over his thin chest; hands gripped tight and shaking around his own biceps. His leg muscles were tight, signifying his readiness to run, but his fear of what Chase would do kept him settled in the chair.

Chase sighed and relaxed out of the transformation. He took another sip of scotch.

“Thank you,” he said. “Now, then: you are _not_ a martial artist. You are an artist of a _different_ sort. You are athletic, yes, but you do not possess combat ferocity; not naturally so. You’ll fight if cornered, but you do not take the initiative. You’re suited more to defensive martial abilities; evasion, not attack. Perhaps someday you’ll learn these forms. But I ask that you do it away from the Heylin-Xiaolin Conflict.”

“But… I’m… having _fun_ ,” Jack sulked.

“Are you really? Spicer: _are you_ enjoying being beaten and belittled and degraded by _both_ sides? None of us fear you. None of us _respect_ you.”

Jack flinched and curled up tighter.

“None of us _like_ you or want you around,” Chase continued, and watched the teen swallow against the urge to cry. “We do not _welcome_ your presence at all. Do you really _enjoy_ knowing that?”

Spicer closed his eyes and tears slid down his cheeks, ruining the black marks he insisted on wearing. Chase held back the wicked laughter that bubbled up in him; mean satisfaction at seeing the evidence of the boy’s pain.

“Why are you wasting your time in an arena you have no hope of succeeding in?” he then asked, taking a different tack in the conversational waters.

At that, Jack opened his eyes to give Chase a confused look. Chase had to admire the tear-enhanced glitter of Spicer’s crimson eyes.

“What do you mean ‘wasting my time’?” Spicer prompted. His voice was churlish; full of hurt and resentment.

“You are mortal,” Chase answered. “A genius, yes – but mortal. Your time on this planet is _finite_. Therefore, it is _very_ precious, yet you choose to _waste it_ via insanity.”

“ _Insanity?_ ”

“To keep doing the same thing again and again, expecting it to be different _despite_ using the same variables, is…?”

Jack sulked. “…Insanity.”

“Yes – and it’s a shame to see your brilliance ruined via such madness.”

Spicer’s breath caught. He looked at Chase with happiness and hope and adoration.

Chase shook his head. “And _there_ is your foolish crush on me.”

Jack retreated, stung. He curled further in on himself in the chair with a wounded pout.

“I cannot give you the simpering adulation that you want, Spicer. I am not able to give fluffy, ducky love – even if I was inclined to do so. You’ll never receive sweet words from me; no tokens of affection, so honeyed and trite. I will never simper and coo at you, with you.”

With every word, Jack’s expression fell. His shoulders drooped and a blush of misery and want suffused his face.

“What I _can_ offer you… is tolerance.”

At that, Jack focused on him and gave him a guarded look.

“I can give you _civil attention_ in admittedly limited doses,” Chase explained. “That is the deal I offer to you, Spicer: quit this conflict and I will give you my favorable time and attention. Do nothing to aid or abet _anyone_ on _either_ side of the conflict – and I will willingly spend time with you. I will _talk_ with you. I will be your confidante, your guide. I will advise you when you need it. I will _listen_ to you. I will _pay attention_ to you.”

“You’ll… be my… _friend?_ ”

“Nothing so insipid. But I will give you what _benevolence_ is in me. I will no longer brutalize you in word or deed – unless you do something _spectacularly_ foolish – and all you must do is walk away.”

He leaned slightly forward and Spicer straightened up, eyes wide.

“Go out into this mortal world,” Chase ordered. “Go. _Do_ things. _Learn_ things. _Teach_ things. _Make_ things. _Grow up_. Gain _life experience_. But do it _away_ from here.”

“I… I don’t—“

“Right now: _this is all you know_. Do you really want _this_ to be _all_ you know? Do you really want your amazing brain to _atrophy?_ When you are capable of so much more!”

Spicer flinched, gasping. He hugged himself as he shivered and stammered out: “ _You_ haven’t. Atrophied, I mean. You’re so… awesome.”

The hushed whisper came out flavored with hero worship.

“I am, yes – but I am also _meant_ to be part of this conflict,” Chase said. “ _I_ was _made_ for it. _You_ stumbled across it by accident.”

Jack winced and looked down, frowning.

Chase looked at the teenager for a few moments and then made another decision. He set the glass he held on the floor and then sat back, uncrossing his legs.

“Come to me.”

Jack blinked and then looked at him, startled.

Chase patted his lap once. “Come to me, Spicer.”

His eyes were wide, but Jack scrambled gracelessly up from his chair and over to where Chase sat. He stopped just short of the Heylin lord, suddenly shy; hesitant. Chase held out his hand to Spicer and the boy fumbled his hand into Chase’s grasp.

Chase pulled him down and got Jack situated sideways across his lap. In short order, they were cuddled together in the older man’s chair; his back braced by a strong arm and his gangly legs gathered under one of Chase’s large hands. Jack lay astonished and limp in Chase’s hold.

“ _This_ is the most tenderness I am capable of,” Chase murmured. “I am prepared to give you this much, Spicer. I will pay attention to you, talk with you, advise you, and give you the occasional cuddle. I might even _play_ with you if the whim takes me. I will assuage that _intense_ loneliness you are laboring under.”

“In… in limited doses,” Spicer whispered.

“Yes. This is what I mean by _tolerance_. There is only so much social interaction I can _tolerate_. Why else do you think I stay in my mountain so much?”

Spicer shrugged, making a face. “Dunno? Just assumed you have some bizarre fondness for playing with cats and the occasional monk and not much else.”

Jack yelped a moment later and rubbed, pouting, at his thigh where Chase had pinched him.

“You only have so much leeway,” Chase warned him, “and I have _never_ tolerated insults very well.”

“Understood,” Spicer grumbled, rubbing for a moment more before subsiding. “But I… wasn’t? Trying to insult you, I mean! It was just an observation!”

“And one made from ignorance,” Young shot back. “You do not know me or my motivations beyond the most obvious.”

“But—“

“You are a _genius_ , Spicer! Take what you know of me and _extrapolate_. _Hypothesize_.”

Jack shivered. “Don’t… don’t talk _nerdy_ to me if you’re not gonna…”

Chase narrowed his eyes at Jack and laid his hand on the pinched spot, crooking his fingers in clear warning.

“Alright, alright!” Spicer cried, cringing against him. His pale brow furrowed as he began thinking.

Chase leaned over just enough to pick the scotch glass up off the floor and sip.

Several minutes passed in silence as Jack pondered and Chase waited. Eventually, he squinted up at the Heylin man and Chase cocked an eyebrow back at him.

“You’re very particular,” Spicer said, and Chase made a ‘go on’ gesture. “You’re very _picky_. You’re a perfectionist – which is why you took your _own_ offer when it was made to you. You have precise ideas about how _you_ should be in all things and ways, so you created your home and your life to suit those particularities. You, uh… you don’t interact with the modern world much because nothing about it meets your standards. You could easily take over the world and force it – the people – to be what you want, but for now, you don’t want to for whatever reasons.”

Chase smiled, impressed. “ _Excellent_ , Spicer. Truly: well done. That is _precisely_ me.”

Jack looked at him, not smiling back. “That’s why you’re doing this, isn’t it? I’m the odd one out. I don’t _fit in_ enough and it’s driving you nuts.”

Young nodded. “Yes. Your blundering idiocy in the conflict is grotesque and offensive. But more to the point: I hate little else on this planet than _wasted potential_. Your _vast_ potential is being wasted in this conflict. Seeing you so ruined is _maddening_ when I _know_ you are capable of so much more if you quit this field to go dominate your own.”

Jack scowled. “What do _you_ get out of this? If it’s just to get me out of the way – to stop annoying and offending you with my sheer freakin’ existence – well, you’ve shot yourself in the foot, pal, by offering me even _limited_ companionship!”

“What I get is what I _want_.”

Spicer frowned, confused, but said nothing. They sat together in dim light and subtle shadow, silent, while Chase sipped scotch and Spicer tried to come to terms with everything he was saying.

Finally, Jack dared to lay his head on the shelf of Chase’s shoulder, tucked between his neck and the rounded metal pauldron of his armor. The black silk collar of the man’s shirt was warm; his skin more so.

Chase didn’t force him away and Jack relaxed into him.

“If I go away, I can have… this? A little bit?”

“A little bit,” Chase agreed, and his free hand came up to cup the teen’s head. His arm curved around Spicer’s back, tucking Jack closer against him.

“Is there a time limit?”

“You have this until you go back on your word,” he murmured. “The instant you go hunting for Shen-Gong-Wu… the instant you build something or give resources to aid anyone in this conflict _for_ this conflict… _then_ do you lose this. Then, you lose _me_.”

“But so long as I _don’t_ …”

“Then you have my tolerance. You have my _benevolence_ , such as it is.”

“What if… what if someone tries to _force_ me to do stuff?”

“You will have to decide for yourself what matters more to you – but I _would_ step in to keep you from being maimed or killed. Remember: I do not want your potential wasted.”

“But… what if I _accidentally_ find a ‘Wu? It’s happened before.”

“I expect you to walk away from it. Alert _no one_ , not even me, to its existence. Ignore the Shen-Gong-Wu; do not take it or use it or give it away. You will be neutral – that is what I ask of you in _all_ of this.”

Jack sighed. “That’s a lot to ask.”

“Yes – and I’m _offering_ a lot in return. What I am offering you, Spicer, I have never offered to another since I turned to evil.” Chase carded his fingers through obnoxiously bright red-orange hair; scratched lightly at the boy’s scalp. “I can be kind _enough_ , Jack.”

Chase waited through the silence that followed. Occasionally, he felt Jack tense against him; sensed the emotions in the untrained, vulnerable boy as he considered Chase’s offer. Spicer knew he was right – and he _hated_ it. He more than likely hated _Chase_ , just a little bit, for knowing him so well that he could make such an offer that tempted Spicer like nothing else ever could.

Finally, Jack sighed and said: “I… yeah, Chase. Yes. I accept the deal.”

As soon as Spicer agreed, Chase drained the glass of scotch and set it aside. He urged Jack up from his lap and then stood as well. Facing the teen, Chase reiterated the deal – his part and Spicer’s – and then offered his hand for a shake. 

_Spicer_ trembled as he clasped hands with Chase and shook. Magic flashed over them both, making the boy gasp.

“The deal is struck and sealed,” Chase said. Then, he startled Jack into a graceless squawk of alarm by yanking the boy to him for a hard hug. “Here’s to not seeing you for a while, Spicer.”

He released Jack only to catch hold of his chin, forcing the teenager to look at him.

“I want two things from you within a week,” Chase instructed. “You will send a letter to the Xiaolin Dragons at the Temple. You will inform them that you are dropping out of the conflict. To _me_ : you will send an outline for a plan for the next three years of your life. I expect you to consider formal education and what you will need from it to accomplish the goals you _will_ set for yourself. I expect you to consider what hobbies and skills you would like to acquire. I expect you to make travel plans. I expect you to gain some culture and some life experience. I expect you to plan for taking _lovers_.”

Spicer blushed so very, deeply pink; a lovely color across that pure white skin.

“Send me the outline,” Chase ordered, “and I will communicate back to you any advice and recommendations I have about it. _Do not_ pester me for physical companionship. Remember: _tolerance_.”

“And how little you have of it,” Jack mumbled, petulant.

Chase’s grip on the youth’s chin tightened, but not enough to bruise – enough to make Spicer wince, though.

“And how _all_ of it is now _yours_ ,” Chase purred. His grin at Jack’s vivid astonishment was wicked.

“Yes… _all_ of my _favorable_ attention is now _yours_ ,” Chase goaded. “ _Consider that_ , won’t you? Should you find yourself _tempted_ to go back on your word… consider just _what_ you are tempted to give up. For the record, Spicer: do you recall I said there is _little_ else I hate than wasted potential? Breaking your given word would be _one_ of those things.”

Spicer trembled wildly in his grip. “If I… _if I_ … will you _hurt_ me?”

“Do you _want_ me to hurt you?”

Spicer shook his head; quick, frightened. 

“Hmmm; that’s too bad – as I am guaranteed to hurt you eventually. I _am_ evil, Jack. To be hurt by me is inevitable. But provided you’ve kept your word… I’ll try to _mitigate_ that hurt as best I can.”

Chase released him, then, and stepped back.

“One week; letter to the Temple, outline to me.”

And then, he vanished back to his home.

*~*~*~*

Jack was out of his depth.

After Chase abruptly left – after hugging him; _cuddling_ him! – Jack stood for a very long while in his father’s study staring in blank stupefaction at the crystal glass sitting on the floor.

It wasn’t until one of his Jackbots spoke up and startled him that Jack was pulled out of his own head. The sudden sound of a robotic voice shocked him back to reality and Jack flailed backwards, tripped over the chair he’d been sitting in, and then flopped to the floor with a grunt.

_At least he wasn’t here to see **that** ,_ Jack thought, furious with himself.

“Are you alright, Master?”

Jack scowled and shoved himself up onto his hands and knees, and then rolled up onto his feet.

“I’m _fine_ ,” he groused, brushing imaginary dust from himself. “Clean the glass and return it to the cabinet; make sure the cabinet is locked.”

“Yes, Master. Where is Master Chase Young?”

Jack huffed. “Probably off playing with—“

His mouth snapped shut and he flinched, looking around. He had no idea if Chase could hear anything he was saying, but the throb from the pinched spot on his leg reminded him of how precious little tolerance the older man had for him – even when offering to be _kind_.

Burning, furious resentment welled up in Jack. How had it come to this? How had he gotten himself into such a weak, submissive position? Was he _really_ that desperate to _matter_ to Chase Young?

He sighed and closed his eyes as he muttered, “Yeah… yeah, I am.”

“Master…?”

Jack opened his eyes and shook his head. “Inner monologue; ignore it.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I’m going to… go… back to my lab,” Jack grumbled. “You keep running normal parameters.”

“Yes, Master.”

Jack stormed out of his father’s study and made his way back down to the basement of the mansion. When he got there, he paused and looked around as he heard Chase’s voice in his memory:

_”This is all you know. Is this really all you **want** to know?”_

Abruptly, Jack felt very small and pitiful. He felt like the _loser_ he was always called by everyone he knew. He was fourteen ( _”And still so **childish** ”_) and he had nothing to show for it beyond proving his genius to himself. He had grown another few inches taller, but he was still _soft_ and baby-faced. His voice had finally begun to crack, but that was it. He didn’t even have a scrid of facial hair!

“No wonder he thinks I’m a child,” Jack mumbled, closing his eyes.

Determination filled him, then; he was going to _do this!_ He was gonna do _exactly_ what Chase had _challenged_ him to do! He was gonna… realize that he had no idea how he was going to communicate with Chase.

Just then, a ping from his personal laptop sounded, indicating he had mail. Curious and wanting a distraction, Jack wandered over and tapped open his mail app, squawking in surprise at what he found.

An e-mail from DarkLord at Heylin dot com had just come in.

_Spicer—_

_It occurred to me that you had to have somewhere to send your missive and I’m not at all inclined to have a fleet of robots showing up on my doorstep every day._

_Thus, you may reach me at this address. DO NOT bombard me with messages or I will block you until I feel better about you – which means you will long be dead of old age and turned to dust by the time that happens._

_Remember: TOLERANCE._

_Chase Young, Lord of Heylin_

“Oh, my God, he is _so_ cool!” Jack gushed.

He paced around, agitated, as he sorted through a list of possible responses. Finally, he set his fingers to the keyboard and began typing.

_Chase,_

_Thanks for the e-mail privileges. Also: who knew you used tech? Not me!_

_Anyway: I could actually use a bit of advice to start off with since, up to now, my goals have all been centered around being a ‘Heylin lord’ myself._

_Given that that’s off the table: WHAT THE HELL AM I GOING TO DO NOW???_

_I know what you said, but I’m still trying to process that. What’s the end result of all this?_

_Sorry for pestering you,_

_Jack Spicer, Tech Lord_

Jack jittered in place as he waited for a response… and then, sighed and drooped as he acknowledged that a response – if any was given – would be a long time in coming.

So he decided to _think_ and for that he needed his white board.

Going over to the board, he erased all the scribbles on it (having already taken pictures to store for later viewing) and got to work.

**THE DEAL THAT CHASE MADE WITH ME** went up at the top, followed by a short summary beneath.

Then, Jack set about convincing himself that he really wanted to do this. He listed all the things he knew about his own involvement in the Heylin-Xiaolin Conflict, including allies (zero) and enemies (all). He used mathematical equations to figure out the most likely outcomes.

The results were utterly disheartening: all signs pointed to Chase Young being right (which he already knew and _hated_ ) and that the deal he’d offered was the best thing possible for Jack.

Sighing, exhausted and headachy, Jack rubbed at his eyes for a few moments – and then, let out a squawk of dismay as he recalled his eyeliner. Looking at his hands, he found them smudged with black make-up and sighed.

Going over to the bathroom tucked into a corner, he sighed as he looked at the ruin of his make-up.

“I look like a raccoon coming home from a drunken orgy,” he grumbled, and set about washing his face.

When he was done, he dried his face and paused to look at himself. He looked… even more baby-faced without the make-up on. Despite the devil red eyes, he looked entirely too young and innocent.

Scowling, Jack threw the small towel aside and stalked back into the lab proper. He went to the computer, just in case, and gasped to find that Chase _had_ responded.

_Spicer—_

_I’m pleased to see that you are keeping aware of the limits of my tolerance – and admitting to your own ignorance._

_To that end, I will give you a bit of aid:_

_THE GOAL IS TO GROW UP, YOU IDIOT!_

_You recall that I said you are childish. You recall that I said you are at risk of ruining yourself in a conflict you do not belong in._

_Given that you’ve put your entire identity into said conflict, it is now time to discover who you are._

_Step One: Think about what you want. You probably think “respect” or “fear” or any other simple one-word answers. It is time to EXPAND those answers; investigate what your one-word answers mean to you. What is the explanation behind them?_

_Step Two: Write about YOURSELF. Identify your personality, your hobbies, your quirks, your interests. This will help you define yourself and what is important to you. DO NOT write about what you think I would like you to be. Write about who you ARE NOW and what YOU would like to be when you grow up. Write about any and all possibilities of what you could be. Write about what excites you, what you are capable of – what you would like to learn if you don’t know it already. What hobbies and skills could you add to your repertoire and why? Don’t choose SOLELY for ‘being productive or worth doing’. You are allowed to choose things simply because you WANT those things and you need not justify your choice._

_Step Three: Think about the future. Think about where you see yourself living ten years from now. What occupation do you have in mind? Do you have lovers or are you alone? What possessions do you have and why do you have them? What REPUTATION do you have? Make your goals SPECIFIC, Spicer. You say you are a ‘tech lord’. Is that really what you want to be? Why? HOW do you go about doing that; proving that? What is the point of being a ‘tech lord’? Who is that going to impress?_

_Step Four: Who, What, Where, Why, and How – you know these words and now it is time to apply them to you. Again: BE SPECIFIC in your goals. Who does this benefit? What is the point and what resources do you have available (money, parents, skills, etc.)? Where are you going with this? WHY? HOW will you get there? Create a timeline, a chart, whatever you need. Research and apply the knowledge you gain; plug the answers in and see what comes up. PLAN FOR OBSTACLES. While you will be removed from the Conflict, that does not preclude conflict will not come to you. You are bound to make enemies, Spicer; BE PREPARED._

_Step Five: STOP BEING LAZY. You are going to have work for what you want. Robots and Magic will only get you so far – and without Shen-Gong-Wu, you will not have access to magic. You will have access to yourself and your amazing brain. It is time to put both mind AND body to work. If you remain determined and motivated, I am certain the world will see spectacular things come from you._

_Step Six: Track your progress. The saying, I believe, is: “Check yourself before you wreck yourself.” This applies here. You do not want to wreck – do you, Spicer? You’re ALREADY a wreck and look what it’s gotten you. Keep track of yourself and you’ll stay the course to whatever destination you’ve chosen._

_That should do for now. You have one week, so DO NOT RUSH. Take time to consider everything I’ve put forth to you – and don’t forget that letter to the blasted monks._

_I will check back in one week._

_Chase Young, Lord of Heylin_

Jack felt himself sag with every new step Chase had written out. This was going to be _a lot_ of work.

“But… maybe it needs to be,” he admitted out loud, though in a tiny voice.

He turned and looked around his lab again, seeing with a new point of view how _puerile_ it all was – how childish and trivial _he_ was. Schematics for ridiculous robotics were scattered all around, as were half-finished projects. Junk littered the place and the forced aesthetic of broody metal teenager practically reeked of stereotyping and predictability and he… hated that. 

He didn’t _want_ to be predictable or just like other teenaged guys! He was _unique_ , dammit! He was capable of building _time machines just because!_

Abruptly, he gasped and went rigid as a light dawned in his mind.

Jack knew, to the depths of him, that he wanted to rule the world – and he had the idea, now, of just how to do it.

He went to the larger computer in the lab, needing the CPU to handle the bulk load of everything he was gonna put into place for himself.

*~*~*

“Young monks.”

The Xiaolin Dragons looked up from arguing about whose turn it was in the next round of the game they were playing. Master Fung stood over them, watching them with quiet neutrality with Dojo draped around his shoulders.

They all assumed they were in trouble; began clamoring with excuses and blame, only to go silent as Fung held up a hand.

“I came only to deliver this to you,” he said, and handed over a letter-sized envelope. “It is a letter addressed to the four of you.”

The four Dragons looked at each other, surprised, and then Kimiko took the envelope – which happened to be black – and carefully opened it. Nothing happened, and so she pulled the paper inside out, unfolding it to read while her fellows clustered around her.

“’Dear Xiaolin’ – ‘losers’ is crossed out,” she muttered. “’Monks, or whatever you call yourselves. I’m writing this letter to let you know that I’m officially done. I’m dropping out of the Heylin-Xiaolin Conflict and will be focusing on myself and my life from now on. I’d offer my best wishes, but we’d all know I don’t mean it, so take this as good as it gets: goodbye.’”

“It’s from Jack!” Omi pointed out.

“Pfffft,” Raimundo scoffed. “ _Jack_ quitting the conflict? I’d sooner believe him saying he’s the Tooth Fairy!”

“Because he is bone white?” Omi asked, eyes wide.

Raimundo and Kimiko brayed laughter while Clay ducked his head to hide his smile.

“I believe what Raimundo was trying to say,” said Fung with a quelling glare at the snickering leader of the Dragons, “was that he finds it impossible to believe that Jack Spicer is willingly walking away from the Heylin-Xiaolin Conflict of which he has spent years being so deeply involved in.”

“Considerin’ he’s about as welcome as a skunk at a lawn party, ya’d think he’d’ve cottoned on quicker’n this,” Clay muttered. “Then again, it’s seemed a while his engine’s been runnin’ but ain’t nobody drivin’.”

Everyone gave him blank stares, so the cowboy sighed and translated:

“He’s not wanted ‘round these parts and he’s not overly intelligent when it comes to common sense matters.”

“Ohhhhh,” they all said.

Clay rolled his eyes skyward beneath the brim of his hat.

“The point _is_ ,” Rai continued, “I don’t think this is legit!”

He pointed at the letter still in Kimiko’s hands.

“Yeah,” Kimiko agreed. “This seems kind of fishy. Jack just up and walking away from his dream of world domination? Not real.”

“It _is_ pretty catty-whompus,” Clay added. “He’s probably up to somethin’.”

“Then we should go and find out what it is!” Omi declared. “If we stop him in his steps now, he cannot place the down smack on us at a later point in time!”

“That’s ‘halt him in his tracks’ and—“

“ _I do not care!_ ” Omi yowled, and made his way out of the room at a run.

His fellow Dragons looked at each other and then, grabbing Dojo from Fung’s shoulders, they took off after the diminutive monk.

Fung sighed and then settled down to pick up one of the controllers to finish the game his students had been playing.

*~*~*

Jack was in a meeting – with his parents of all people.

They had voluntarily made the choice to come back from the Hamptons when he’d sent his mother a text message saying he was figuring out his life and what he was going to do with it.

They’d both come home and immediately demanded that he give up the drugs he was obviously taking.

He’d had to argue with them about it, but now, here they all were in the parlor in the east wing of the mansion; Jack facing his parents as they stared him down.

“Alright then, Jackson,” said Aldrich Spicer, frowning at his son; “what is going on?”

Jack took a deep breath. “What’s going on… is that it’s time for me to move on. It’s time for me to get on with _growing up_. I’ve been stuck in a rut and I _see that now_.”

His mother narrowed her eyes at him.

“Where is this coming from, Jackie?” asked Madeleine. “Up until now, you’ve been content to play around with your robot toys and pretend to be a Big Bad Guy.”

Jack winced. “Yeah – kid stuff. But I’m fourteen, now, and it’s time to face that fact. I’m getting older. I’m gonna be a man soon. Who’s gonna take me seriously if I’m still the creeper weirdo living in his folks’ basement?”

“What’s her name?” Aldrich demanded to know.

“Huh?!”

“What’s the _name_ of the _girl_ that has you all twisted up about this?” his father prompted. “Nothing motivates a guy like wanting to impress his crush. So: who is she?”

“What – that – there’s no _girl!_ ” Jack shouted. “This is all _me_ , Dad!”

“Uh-huh.” Aldrich gave his son a _look_. “Jackson, you’re my son and I love you, but I’m not _blind_ to you, you know. You’re a very selfish and lazy young man. Only an external entity or force could have prompted you to this new motivation. So, again: _who is she?_ ”

Jack stared at his father; his brain stuck on the words “I love you.”

Since _when?_

Aldrich sighed. “ _Jackson_.”

“Jackie!” Madeleine called out in a particular tone.

Jack blinked, shook his head, and then huffed.

“Dad,” he ground out; “ _Mom_ … I mean it: this is really just me. I mean… okay, yeah, a guy I know pointed out that I’m a – a – loser. That I’m not wanted or welcomed anywhere; that nobody takes me seriously. Nobody _respects_ me. And I _thought about it a lot_ and… he’s right. I’m the creepy-colored _loser_ that isn’t worth paying attention to.”

Aldrich looked away while Madeleine sighed.

“Honey, that isn’t true,” she said, but stopped when Jack held up his hand.

“Mom… don’t. Okay? Don’t try to sugar coat this. I appreciate that you want to, but it won’t _help_ right now. I mean… _you guys_ don’t even respect me. Dad said it himself that he thinks I’m selfish and lazy. _You_ said that I’m a little boy playing pretend games with my robots.”

His parents winced at that.

“I’m _fourteen_ ,” Jack repeated, “and in a little while I’ll be _fifteen_ and what do I have to show for that? Nothing. And I don’t want that. I _want_ to be respected. I want to be _strong_ in a way that people pay attention to.”

His parents looked at each other and then back to him.

Aldrich nodded. “I can understand that. I must say I approve, Jackson.”

“’But’…?”

“ _But_ … I don’t believe you’ll stick with it. I think this is just another half-assed attempt at something before you get bored or decide it’s too much like _work_ and you drop it to return to the status quo.”

Jack grimaced. “Yeah… that’s a reasonable belief. Track record speaks for itself, right? But I’ve got _a lot_ riding on this – and no, there’s still no _girl_.”

Which was true: there wasn’t a girl involved.

“I’m gonna lose out on… everything I know I can have that I want if I don’t do something,” Jack grumbled. “I know I want fame and fortune and all the power that comes with it. I know I want the whole damn world on their knees at my feet because of how _awesome_ I am. I can make things they only think can be dreamed up on a TV screen. I can put Humanity out into _space_ if I want – but nobody knows it ‘cause I’m a dumb little boy playing dumb little boy games.”

And finally… his parents gave him their genuine interest. They both focused on him, their expressions serious, and he could _see it_ in the way they looked at him: they really wanted to hear what he had to say.

“Are you sure about this, Jackie?” Madeleine asked. “If you are, we’re going to expect a lot from you.”

“And we haven’t expected that in a very long time,” Aldrich added. “You’ve seemed content to piss around with your robots, not needing us at all.”

It was on the tip of Jack’s tongue to snarl out: _”Ever think I had the robots because I didn’t have **you?** ”_

He held the bitter accusation back. All that would accomplish would be alienating his parents when he needed them on his side now more than ever.

Before he could say anything, though, the wall behind him exploded inward.

The force of the impact from the debris propelled him forward with a scream. His parents were also screaming, ducking and covering. What startled Jack the most was that even as he rolled to a halt by the sofa they were sat on, his father reached out to haul him closer into a protective embrace with his mother.

“ _Jack Spicer!_ ” Omi shouted as he leaped through the new hole in the wall. “I demand that you explain yourself at once!”

“If anyone—“ Aldrich broke off to cough for a few moments as he stood up—“if _anyone_ is going to be making demands around here, it’s _me_.”

“What? Who are _you?_ ” Omi asked, frowning, while his fellow Dragons formed up around him.

“I am Aldrich Spicer and _this is my home_ that you’ve just broken into!”

Omi blinked. “Uhhhh…”

Jack shrugged free of his mother’s hold and stood up with a glower.

“This is my _father_ ,” he growled, “and the pretty lady you’ve just frightened is my _mother_.”

“You have parents?” Omi blurted out.

Jack was not the only one who facepalmed at that.

“What does _that_ mean?” Madeleine snapped, also standing. “Why would you say something like that? Of course he has parents!”

Clay doffed his hat. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but we kinda doubted your existence seein’ as we’ve known Jack a few years now and ain’t never seen ya.”

Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “My parents are busy and important people. They have other things to do.”

“Than to be there for ya?” Clay wondered aloud.

Madeleine gasped and flinched.

Jack _scowled_ ; his expression a ghostly white echo of his father’s face as Aldrich also glared.

“I don’t know who you are or why you’re here,” Aldrich began, only to be cut off by Omi.

“We are the Xiaolin Dragons!” Omi declared, posing with smug pride. “We are the Guardians of the Xiaolin Temple, Wudai Warriors for Goodness!”

Jack couldn’t help but laugh when his father turned to give him an incredulous look.

“Yeah,” Jack muttered, “he really does talk like this.”

“Whatever!” Omi shouted. “That is not the point of us being here! The point is that _you_ , Jack Spicer, are up to something wicked and evil!”

“Awwww,” Jack crooned, taunting, “you really know how to sweet talk a guy, Omi.”

Omi’s jaw-sagging astonishment was so hilarious that even his fellow monks couldn’t stop the laughter that erupted.

Omi quickly realized that pretty much everyone was laughing at him and he crossed his arms, sulking.

When Jack calmed down, he said, “Okay, listen: as _flattered_ as I am that you think I’m being evil, I gotta ask: What the _fuck_ are you all doing here?”

“ _Jackie_ ,” his mother hissed even as Clay clamped his hands over Omi’s ears and hauled the little monk protectively back from the foul-mouthed albino teen.

“There ain’t no need o’ that kinda language!” Clay growled. “There’s women an’ kids present!”

Jack and Kimiko both rolled their eyes.

Raimundo stepped forward. “We got your letter, Jack.”

“Okay, great.” Jack frowned. “Wait: you think it’s a _trick?_ ”

Kimiko, with her hands on her hips, said, “ _Duh_.”

“Jack? What are they talking about?” Aldrich demanded of his son.

Jack sighed. “I sent them a letter saying – okay, you remember that one time you saw me phase through a wall while holding onto some ancient looking lizard tail thing?”

“Yes…”

“That’s what’s known as a Shen-Gong-Wu. They’re ancient artifacts that grant X-Men-like powers to whoever’s using them at the time. The Xiaolin—“ Jack pointed at the Dragons—“are in direct opposition to the Heylin; the forces of Evil, that want to use the ‘Wu to commit crimes on humanity and such-like. The Xiaolin try to get and keep the ‘Wu to keep them out of Heylin hands. And for a while… I was on the Heylin side.”

Aldrich scowled at him. “’Was’?”

Jack shrugged. “To be honest, I still _feel_ pretty Heylin. It isn’t like I’m all that _fond_ of people and evil is power. I _like_ feeling powerful.”

Aldrich nodded. “I understand that.”

“But the Heylin-Xiaolin Conflict just isn’t… me. It’s a specific niche that I don’t fit into. All I’ve done for the past few years is get my butt handed to me in fight after fight. I’m not making any headway because I’m not really in tune with all the spiritual stuff. And I’m not a fighter – not like them or the Heylin warriors, either.”

“This is true,” Omi said, his tone snooty. “You are most weak, Jack Spicer. Even _Dojo_ can hand you your pasty white backside.”

“Hey!” came the twin aggrieved cry from both Jack _and_ Dojo.

Mean little grins sidled onto the Xiaolin monks’ faces.

“The point _is_ ,” Jack snapped, “that I’ve decided to drop out of _that_ playing field to go play in my _own_ field. I’m a genius inventor and master of robotics and that’s where I belong. From here on out, I ain’t in this mess. You guys are going to go play your stupid Shen-Gong-Wu games and I’m staying _out_ of it. I’m not getting involved for _any_ reason. I’ve got a life to live and I _can’t_ if I’m mixed up with this mess. I’m not on Xiaolin _or_ Heylin teams. I’m on _my_ team. I’m _done_ with all of this.”

Everyone was silent at the end of Jack’s speech. The monks all looked at each other and then finally faced Jack again.

“If that is true, then I demand you hand over whatever Shen-Gong-Wu you have,” Omi declared.

“I _don’t_ have any,” Jack shot back. “I _haven’t_ had any for _months_. The last one I _had_ was the Monkey Staff and do I _really_ need to remind you what you all _did to me with it?_ ”

At that, Clay blushed red and looked away, as did Kimiko. Omi winced, while Rai smirked.

“What? What did they do to you, Jackie?” Madeleine asked, her tone hard.

All four monks tensed at the sound of an angry mom.

“The Monkey Staff is a Shen-Gong-Wu that turns its users into beings with the similar appearance, strength, agility, and balance of a monkey,” Dojo reported, slithering up to coil atop Clay’s head. “If used too long, the user turns into a monkey! Also: if it’s used too long, the user starts thinking like a real monkey: his or her human mind is kind of turned off until the staff is taken away from them.”

Jack sighed at the horrified look on his mother’s face. “Yeah, that’s the downside of it. But having a tail and the agility is pretty cool.”

“Oh, _ugh_ ,” Madeleine groaned.

“Answer your mother’s question,” Aldrich ground out, glaring at the monks. “What did they do to you with it?”

“They hung me from it via my underwear over a mud hole,” Jack said. “Wedgie from hell until the undies ripped. Then, when that happened, they yanked the staff away from me so I fell in and took off with it, laughing.”

The four monks winced back from the furious expressions on the adult Spicers’ faces.

“He’s done as much or worse to us!” Kimiko accused, pointing at Jack.

“ _Good_ ,” Madeleine said coldly. 

Kimiko blinked, astonished. 

“Alright,” Aldrich said. “I’ve heard enough. You kids: _get the hell out of my house_. I’ll be suing the Temple for repairs.”

“You… what?” Omi blurted out. “But we are Xiaolin monks!”

“And you think that gives you the _right_ to destroy other peoples’ property?” Aldrich challenged, scowling. “That is the complete _opposite_ of what a monk is supposed to do!”

“But we thought your son—“

“Still no right!” Aldrich shouted, and Omi flinched back. “Whatever grievance you have with Jackson – you still had _no right_ to destroy _my_ house!”

“’Jackson’?” three of the Dragons echoed.

Jack sighed. “It’s my _name_ , idiots.”

They glared at him.

“You heard Mr. Spicer,” Madeleine said coldly. “You are not welcome here and you _will_ be held responsible for the damages to our home. Get out of here. Please inform your elders that donations to the Temple will cease from now on if this is the kind of rampant bullying that can be expected from your lot.”

All four monks gaped at her while Dojo winced.

Slithering down from Clay, he made his way over the rubble as he said, “Come on, kids – time to go home and face the music.”

“Music? What music?” Omi asked. “I hope it is something pleasant – we could use some of that.”

His fellow monks sighed and shook their heads.

“It’s an expression, Omi,” Kimiko explained. “It means we’re in trouble and we’re going to have to listen to a lecture about it.”

“But why should we be in trouble? We suspected – still do suspect! – Jack Spicer of being up to something mischievous!”

“I think we might be off on this one, pardner,” Clay muttered, reaching down to take Omi by the shoulder. “Jack might actually be turnin’ a new leaf on this one.”

“He has _leaves_ now?!”

Kimiko _sighed_ while Raimundo rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“I’ve got an idea,” Jack announced, and the monks went tense.

“What is it, son?” Aldrich prompted.

“They’re _monks_ , right? Money’s going to be an issue.”

“Your point?”

“They’ll have a difficult time paying for damages,” Jack pointed out. “I say: we handle the repairs ourselves, cease donations to the Temple, _and_ they have to swear they will leave me alone from now on. I won’t go near them, they won’t come near me. We’re all gonna go our separate ways.”

Aldrich looked at the young Dragons with a narrowed, considering stare.

“Additionally,” Madeleine said, “I would like these four to write a very _public_ letter of apology and post it where anyone going to or from the Temple may read it.”

The Dragons winced and Jack _grinned_.

“You’re the actual best, Mom,” he declared.

Madeleine smirked. “Yes, I am.”

“If that’s what you two want…” Aldrich sighed.

“Yes, please,” mother and son both said, in the same sweet tone.

Aldrich laughed. “Alright, then.” He focused on the monks. “Go away and never come back, public letter of apology, and you will let your elders know _why_ we are ceasing donations to the Temple.”

All four young Dragons nodded, shame-faced and resentful, and turned to go.

“Man, this sucks!” Rai groused, leading the way out through the hole in the wall.

“Ain’t nothin’ for it, Rai,” Clay muttered. “Time to paint our butts white an’ run with the antelope.”

Omi glanced back at Jack and opened his mouth.

Clay simply picked up the small monk and walked out.

Jack covered his face with his hands and snuffled laughter for a few moments. Then, he called one of his Jackbots to put in an order for wall repair supplies and for the Jackbots to get to work.

“I need some cocoa,” he groaned.

His parents put their hands on his shoulders and guided him out of the parlor.

“We all need a drink,” Aldrich muttered.

“Yes – and while we do, you can tell us what you’ve come up with for this new direction in your life,” Madeleine added. “If you’re really ready to grow up, Jack… we’ll help.”

Jack _grinned_.

His parents were finally _with_ him.

*~*~*~*

_Spicer—_

_Here is the revision of the outline you’ve sent to me._

_Your plan for your life is very detailed and well thought-out; you’ve surprised me._

_You have also pleased me._

_The few corrections I’ve made are ones that I believe will benefit you. You are, of course, free to accept or discard the recommendations as you will, though I hope you do at least consider them carefully either way._

_I know about the visit the Dragons paid to your house – and the subsequent fallout. I haven’t been that amused in YEARS. Well done! You are on a difficult path, but you’ve begun walking it and with decided flair. This doesn’t surprise me. You are a UNIQUE individual, Jack Spicer._

_Despite your IQ score and your parents’ money, I’m certain it will take some time before you’re set up in the education program of your choice. Let me know when you will be leaving and I will make time to come see you before you go._

_In spite of our natural leanings: I wish you good luck._

_I look forward to seeing what you will become._

_Chase Young, Lord of Heylin_

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty! It's been a hot minute since I've written in this fandom. Feels good to dip my feet back in here. Been mucking around with various ideas lately and this one stuck the most. We'll see what comes of it. First in a planned series! Thanks to Cold-Creature for the quick beta!


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